Disclaimer: You know the drill. Pretty much anything I wish was mine, isn't.

Author's Note: Bonus points to Red Bess Rackham for recognizing my DJ MacHale reference in the last author's note. Not going to put a lot of preamble here, so let's just get on with the show. And reviews always make me smile… *nudge nudge*

Chapter 35: Lost and Found

Severus Snape glared long and hard at the bird before him; if looks could kill, even that phoenix wouldn't be standing there. How the hell had Albus's bloody bag of feathers tracked him down here? He thought he was far enough away from everyone, anyone associated with his old life that even Albus—the busy-body—Dumbledore wouldn't be able to find him again. It just wasn't fair. How many more years of his life did he owe this man? Hadn't he already given him enough? Did he not deserve some element of peace?

Fawkes leaned in, nipping painfully at Severus's ear, as though to remind him, "I'm here, I have mail for you, and I'm not leaving until you've taken this letter."

Severus glared again, wishing he could set fire to the thing. Putting a hand up to his bleeding ear, he reached out with the other to untie the letter from the bird's ankle. "You can go now."

The stupid phoenix didn't move.

"Going to sit and watch me read it, are you?" he hissed. "Fine," he breathed. He looked distastefully at the envelope. This was Albus's bird but this was not Albus's handwriting. He knew well whose hand it was. He'd read enough miles of her essays. He would never forget the handwriting as long as he lived. The sight of his first name written across the front of the envelope in the hand of a student felt as though it were an offense to his eyes. Especially since he never wanted to hear from her ever again. He quite seriously considered tossing it. The damn bird wouldn't leave. "If I throw this out you're going to tell him, aren't you?" he hissed. He reached for a knife, not even bothering to wipe the plant residue from it before slicing open the envelope. Sneer still plastered on his face, he unfolded the letter, scanning through the lines, wondering what the Granger brat had to say.

Severus Snape,

You've been gone for some time now, but apparently not long enough to nurse all your wounds, or you would be back among us.

He snorted. As if he'd ever want to be back around those people again. Students. Dumbledore. The idiotic wizarding community at large. And what did she think? That he was lying in a cave, licking an injured paw until he felt healthy again. Hardly. Besides, the stone walls were exceedingly well suited to his personality.

Your expertise in potion making is not easily matched.

He almost laughed at her attempt at flattery. Those words were an understatement if ever he'd read one. If she was writing to him, she was asking something of him. She had to do a lot better than that.

I have four werewolves I have promised to care for—werewolves that need Wolfsbane potion. It is too late this month, but I resolve to at least make an attempt for the next. I don't have your talent for potion making but if you'll work with me just for a month or two to make sure I'm doing things right, it would mean a great deal and you'd be helping Remus Lupin and three other lycanthropes—one not more than a small boy.

A small boy? It was the best time to learn that the world was cruel. Then there'd never be an expectation for fairness. Besides, what was she doing taking on responsibilities she obviously couldn't handle? She'd have to face the consequences of her actions.

Please come back. I'm not difficult to find. I need your help; I can't do this on my own. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a know-it-all. Albus knows where I am and how to reach me.

As ever,

Hermione Granger

Apparently Miss Granger had learned some humility if she was able to admit her inferiorities. Still, he wasn't coming out of hiding for that. Not to help her. Or Lupin. Why did she even think throwing his name in there would do her a damn bit of good? And claiming not to be a know-it-all! There went whatever humility he thought she might have grown. Of course Albus could reach her. As evidenced from the bird that had arrived and wouldn't leave him alone, Albus could reach anyone apparently.

He raised an eyebrow at the final word. He'd be surprised if that was still her surname. He was sure by now she and the Weasley brat would have at least a couple of children. Then again, he wasn't exactly keeping track of the days here. "What are you still doing here? I read bloody letter. What more do you want?"

Somehow, Fawkes managed to have an annoyed look on his face. Severus wasn't sure how a bird could manage to convey such a facial expression, but it seemed Fawkes in fact could. He took a stick of charcoal and, crumpling the letter in his other hand, wrote on the back of the envelope a single word.

NO.

He retied the envelope to the bird's leg and gripped it by the ankle for a moment, "Now be gone with you. Never bother me here again." Severus Snape found himself cut off midsentence as he felt a jerking sensation in the neighborhood of his navel, and the world spun around him.

He emerged most inelegantly on the floor of Albus's office, one leg twisted beneath him at an awkward angled. The old man was sitting at his desk, head bent over a stack of papers. The phoenix settled on his shoulder, cooing. Albus looked up over his half-moon spectacles, staring at the man on the ground before him. He looked mildly surprised, "Good morning, Severus. I had not anticipated the pleasure of your company this evening. I can call for one of those house elves to bring something up if you'd like anything."

Severus gritted his teeth. "I hadn't expected so either. I'd like nothing more right now than to return home. And to have you deliver the short missive I've attached for Miss Granger, with the additional reminded that I'd like neither she nor anyone else to contact me again."

Albus tilted his head. "She doesn't go by the name Granger any longer. She's Mrs. Ronald Weasley now."

Severus Snape resisted the strong desire he felt to roll his eyes. Of everything he had said, that is what Albus chose to respond to? For all Severus cared the girl could be calling herself Hermione Malfoy. Then again, even he might sit up and take notice of that. Probably not…but he might. "She signed her letter 'Hermione Granger'. Frankly I don't give a knut what she's called so long as she stays far away from me. I've no desire to help her better the life of Lupin or anyone else. I'd like to get back to my research as quickly as possible and never set foot here again."

Albus stood, slightly bent over. He looked older than Severus remembered him. Not so much in his face or hair, but in the way he held himself. He was a man whose years might finally be catching up to him. "You don't seem to be in a position to set foot anywhere just now, Severus. If I am not mistaken, you appear to be suffering a break somewhere around your kneecap."

"Your bag of feathers dropped me on a stone floor," he commented dryly.

Albus shrugged. "Be that as it may, I can't see you going far today. I'll have a couple of house-elves escort you to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey should be able to see to you."

Internally, Severus shuddered. He pictured himself walking down the hallway, limping, a little green house-elf on each side supporting him. No. No. "I'd rather not."

The old man nodded. "Minerva is due up here for a meeting in a few moments. I'm sure she wouldn't mind delaying it in favor of assisting you. Tell me, Severus, how have you been keeping busy?"

Severus bit his lip until it nearly bled. He was sprawled across this man's floor in a most undignified fashion, practically kidnapped by a bird, probably at his request, and he was asking about his present hobbies. He reached up to flake away some of the now drying blood on his ear. His voice oozed sarcasm. "The same as ever, Albus, minus of course, any human contact or actions as a double agent. It's been an absolute picnic."

The Headmaster closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "Have you given any thought to Hermione's request?"

"My answer is on the back of the envelope. I think it suffices."

Albus looked at the envelope, hanging over his shoulder, the single word on the back clearly visible. "She isn't asking for much, Severus."

He glared, still on the floor. He had considered getting up several times, but it wasn't worth the risk of stumbling or looking weaker. "Have you read this letter?" Snape was still clutching it in his hand. He threw the balled up page onto the headmaster's desk.

"I haven't, and I don't feel the need to read it, Severus. I highly doubt that the Hermione Granger both you and I knew well would ask you for much. She wants to create something strong that will eventually be able to stand on its own. I hardly expect that she would ask you to chain yourself to a cauldron at her mercy for months on end. More likely I would assume she's asking for your assistance in learning the correct techniques. A teacher such as yourself could accomplish this in no more than a month or two I am sure," Albus told him, his voice calm and reasonable.

Severus felt the bile rise in his throat. "A month or two working with her, with Potter and Weasley around I'm certain, would feel as though I was being tortured and chained to a cauldron for months. I won't do it. You're not holding a damn thing over my head that can make me do it."

Albus shook his head, the look on his face a little sad. "No, I can't, Severus. Though I do think you ought to consider it. She has always been a persistent woman. She is determined to do what she can to help lycanthropes and I'd hate to see a potion go awry and harm someone."

Severus crossed his arms and attempted to slowly right the angle of his leg. He grimaced. It just wasn't going to happen right this moment. "Don't try to guilt me into this, Albus. It isn't going to work. I refuse to allow you to do it."

Dumbledore stood slowly, walking around his desk, offering a hand to help Severus stand up. "If not you, you do know who it is she can turn to. They might not have your touch, but surely you know another potions master as apt as yourself for the task."

Before Snape could formulate a snarky response, there was knocking at the door and Albus bid the guest to come in. It was Minerva, ready to discuss some problems they had been having with some of the second year students in her house. "Severus!"

He growled. Just perfect. Of course Minerva had to walk in while he was still sprawled over the floor. "Hello, Minerva."

Minerva McGonagall, still as button-down as ever, gathered herself quickly. "Good morning, Severus." She and Albus each extended a hand and he grudgingly accepted, having to lean a good portion of his weight on the woman.

He grimaced.

"We're going to get Severus to the hospital wing, Minerva, and then you and I can discuss the problem the Botts boy and Flores boy have been having in your class." The three of them made their way to the hospital wing. For Severus every step was emotionally and physically painful.

"What brings you here this evening, Severus?"

"A mistake I'm sure from a phoenix sending a message. The bird apparated back here with my hand still attached to its ankle. I preferred not to let my hand wander off without me," he responded dryly.

Minerva looked at Albus as if for confirmation. "I assure you, Minerva, I gave Fawkes no such instructions. I merely instructed him to return in a month's time if he was unable to deliver the missive that was entrusted to him."

The rest of the walk continued in silence, Severus gritting his teeth and praying to Merlin to get out of this school without seeing anyone else he knew. He doubted he'd be so lucky if the old man had anything to do with it. They ought to just kill him now and be done with it.

Harry paced back and forward. He had about twenty minutes more until his first students arrived. Maybe he was in way over his head. He had seven and eight year olds coming in for English first thing this morning, followed by the same age group for math, and then the nine and ten year old math class before lunch. Then the little ones after lunch. He could very well be doomed.

He'd made class lists for each of his lessons. His seven to eight year old English class consisted of Abigail McGonagall, John Perks, and Tom Stebbins. McGonagall. He looked over his seats again, the table cleared off, screens set up to block off his sleep area. Things seemed about as ready as he could make them. All that was left was to wait.

By nine o'clock, all three students had arrived. They felt so…short. So young. Where was he even going to start? He cleared his throat, a little nervously. "Hi. If you all want to sit, there are chairs for you. I'm your teacher. Why don't all of you introduce yourself to one another. Say your name and something fun about yourself."

John wrinkled his nose at the idea. Harry wasn't sure if that meant he didn't like it, or didn't understand. "Like what?"

"Well, I could say, hello, my name is Harry, and I like to fly."

Abigail raised her hand and volunteered. "Well, my name is Abby and I like to paint."

Harry smiled. "You do? What do you like to paint?"

She tugged on one of her peach colored pigtails. "Pictures. I like listening to stories and making pictures for them."

"Good. What about one of you? What do you like?" Maybe he could do this.

Nine a.m. sharp saw Hermione waiting for the doors of the nursery to open with a list in her hand. Remus was waiting for the plumbing specialists at the halfway house. Things were moving along. She just needed them to move faster…and more efficiently. She would have to make sure she spent more time in Penny's office. She needed to get this all off the ground before she could really start lobbying for legislative change. And she needed to work on the twins' books again. She felt a tap on her shoulder. "Morning, Hermione."

"Oh, hi, Neville."

He juggled a bag of fertilizer on his shoulder, a potted plant tucked under his arm, and reached for the keys in his pocket, slipping them into the door and nudging it with his shoulder. "Welcome to the nursery—no crying, no diapers, and no cooing over the newborns." He grins, still holding the potted plant in the crook of his elbow as he set down the back of fertilizer by the door.

Hermione looked around. She was definitely in here with the youngest plants. At least thirty varieties, some hanging, others potted down in the soil, some grown in water.

Neville looked around, on hand on his hip, the other holding the plant he'd came in with, looking at the nursery like a proud father. "I've been thinking about hiring extra help for some of the more grown plants, but the sprouts, are just so delicate…" He shook his head. "I'm sure you didn't just come in today to watch me talk about the plants. What can I do for you?"

Hermione handed him her list. "These are most of the ingredients in the Wolfsbane potion. I was hoping that there'd be some that we can purchase for the werewolf home. We've got plenty of space—we could plant them, grow our own supplies when we finally get a potions master in to brew the potion for our residents…"

Neville took the list, scanning it over. "Well I could probably get half the list straight out of my inventory. There's several other items on here that I could probably call around and see if I can find them from some of my suppliers."

"That's fantastic. I mean, I know it's going to be really hard to find someone willing to make the potion, so I figure it's best to have as few other complications or difficulties as possible with it. Having supplies ready seems to be the logical choice. I sent a letter last night to the man who invented the potion but my hopes for a response there aren't exactly high, but I had to try—I had to try something." Hermione became vaguely aware that she was babbling and clamped her lips shut.

Neville nodded, smiling. He snapped his fingers and a trolley drifted over towards them. "Let's check on what I've got. What age plants exactly are you looking for? Small, easy to transport, but they're going to need a lot of time to grow, or something big that's just ready to go?"

"Let's mix it up. I'd like some that could be used as soon as we find someone, but since there will probably be plenty of time, I wouldn't be opposed to some of the younger plants—plant them and give them time and space to grow."

Neville walked her through the different sections of the greenhouses he had, picking up the plants from her list with care, placing them on the trolley.

Remus rubbed his temples and sat down on the staircase. The men Hermione had contacted were getting to work on the plumbing upstairs. John was sitting in the corner, working through some subtraction exercises Remus had set for him earlier. Samuel and Leo were tilling the soil out back, getting it ready for whatever plants Hermione brought back from her excursion to Neville's nursery. Remus just needed to rest for a few minutes; he could feel the strain. The full moon was so close.

He opened his eyes, looking at the floor. There was a beak pecking at his calf. It took a moment for his thoughts to pull together. Fawkes was pecking at his leg. He took the letter. It was addressed to Hermione. "She's not here right now. I'll give it to her as soon as she gets back."

The phoenix must have been satisfied by the response, because he left.

Remus slipped the letter in his pocket, reminding himself to give to Hermione when she returned. Realizing he wasn't going to get any more rest that moment, he went to go see how John was getting along with his math.

Severus Snape was grateful of one very small thing. It was shortly before lunch when they arrived at the hospital wing; the hallways were mercifully empty of students. He had to give Madam Pomfrey credit; she didn't flinch at the sight of him. She hardly looked surprised. Maybe she didn't recognize him.

The nurse was as brisk and professional as ever. "That leg looks terrible, Albus, Minerva. You should have levitated him down here and not let any weight rest on it. Get in the bed." The nurse helped maneuver Severus into the nearest bed. She exposed his leg, looking at it. She wasn't sure the last time she'd seen skin so pale. She was certain that, if nothing else, he wasn't getting all of the vitamins he ought to; the man probably wasn't spending any time outdoors. At all.

Severus grimaced as the woman touched his leg. He'd felt plenty worse pain but nothing physically worse in some time. Albus and Minerva did not need to be here. "Didn't you two have somewhere else to be?"

Albus just smiled. Severus hated that smile. "Yes, we do have a meeting to get back to. Take care of him, Poppy. I don't want him out of that bed until you're certain he'll have no ill-effects."

Madam Pomfrey shooed Albus and Minerva from the room. "First things first, we're moving you to a bed nearer to some sunlight. You're clearly lacking in multiple vitamins—the quality of your hair and skin says as much. I'd bet a dozen sickles that some of those vitamins you're missing could come in if you'd only get a little sunlight. You're sickly thin, so I'm also ordering up a hearty meal—something heavy in starches, protein, and vegetables."

Severus narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm not ill. Fix my leg and I'll be on my way."

"You'll do as you're told." She levitated the mattress onto a bed nearer to the window where the sunlight could get at him and pulled the curtain back.

He squinted.

She pulled the curtains around his bed. "Stay here and I'll be back shortly with what I need to mend your leg, and I'll be sending out for something for you to eat."

Severus folded his arms. This was going to be a long day.